


Inside of You (What Do I Have to Do)

by Riachinko



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Roughness, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 10:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10920159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/pseuds/Riachinko
Summary: Gaston wakes up horny as heck and finds LeFou downstairs in the tavern...but there's only a short amount of time before the tavern opens. Can they bone without getting caught??





	Inside of You (What Do I Have to Do)

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of two prompts rolled into one: Dom/sub with some name-calling, and another more specific prompt about them banging in the tavern before it opens. The latter was supposed to have LeFou topping, but I'm sorry, I just couldn't do it ಡ ﹏ ಡ

The tavern wasn't open yet; the barmaids weren't at work, nor the bartender. Their cook wasn't in.

9:06, bright and early.

Early at least for LeFou, who took easily to sleep and hated to be stirred from it. This morning he'd woken cold, Gaston in an unmovable sleep beside him, wrapped in both his fair share of the blankets, and LeFou's. He'd curled up beside the barge of a man as much as he could for warmth, but in the end, there was nothing for it, and LeFou made the decision to head downstairs into the tavern proper to start up the fireplace.

He moved to pull on a simple blouse and knickers, but with opening hour approaching, LeFou thought it best to fully dress. Grudgingly, he tucked in his top, pulled on a spare pair of tan stockings and yesterday's breeches. Though this was Gaston's quarters and not his own, he was thankfully able to find an older navy waistcoat of his in Gaston's wardrobe that matched the rest of the day's outfit. It was best to avoid wearing too much repeat clothing when he stayed the night.

The rickety wooden stairs crunched and moaned beneath him as LeFou made his way downstairs. With sun streaming in hazily through its dust-coated windows with thick panes of tempered coloured glass, the tavern seemed inviting, peaceful. It wasn't until he realized that he would have to go outside to fetch the firewood that his mood dampened.

It was cold outside. Damn cold.

He unbolted and threw open the door to the tavern in a haste, scooping up what logs he could handle from beside the entrance, and made a speedy retreat back inside, kicking the door closed behind him and drawing in a few dead leaves as he did. Winter would be on its way any day now, much to his chagrin.

He startled as he heard the creak of the floorboards behind him, nearly dropping the logs he carried as he turned to see Gaston approaching from behind. He’d barely reached the fireplace when the man spoke.

"You're up early," he yawned.

It was obvious that Gaston had put less consideration into the the time of day when he’d dressed. He wore a white, open tunic that flowed over his figure beautifully, revealing his perfectly-toned pecs and bronzed skin. He’d thrown on slacks, but they were undone as well, and he was barefoot. LeFou turned again to push the distraction from his mind and focus on the task at hand; getting warm.

"Don't remind me."

The fire was then lit and the tavern echoed with its gentle roar. LeFou yawned with exaggeration as he stood, leaning his head back against Gaston’s loosely-clothed chest as the man moved to envelop LeFou in his arms.

“Mm,” he hummed. “Should I put on a pot of tea?”

Gaston’s hands roamed free over his stout partner’s body, and LeFou found that he was unable - rather, unwilling - to move from his spot in front of the mantel; Gaston’s left hand creeping around to clutch at his shoulders, and his right slinking downwards to paw at the front of LeFou’s breeches.

“Tea can wait,” Gaston breathed into LeFou’s dark curls. They stood against each other for a moment of serenity, warming each other; Gaston taking in the scent of LeFou's hair. 

“I dreamt about you last night, LeFou...Do you want to know where you had your lips..?”

Chapped fingers brushed against LeFou’s mouth, then, and LeFou chortled against them. His eyes slanted impishly and he twisted to look at the man who held him.

“Since when do you remember your dreams?” He swatted at Gaston’s forearms playfully, adding, “Let’s not do this now, the staff will be arriving shortly.”

It was difficult to turn Gaston away; the feeling of being desired was intoxicating, and it was rare that Gaston was being so openly brazen about wanting LeFou’s mouth on his crotch without first having a few drinks in him. Even in the absence of others. 10 o’clock was approaching steadily, however, and this was not the time nor the place for deviant intimacy.

But God, those muscles felt nice behind him.

Still, when LeFou tried to take a step forward, wriggling to free himself from Gaston’s hold, the man pulled him back and held him tighter to his chest.

“We still have some time,” he purred into LeFou’s ear. “Will my whore really deny me?”

LeFou shivered, even in the heat of the fire. He disapproved of that term - applied to himself, at least - and turned his head to the side, looking away from Gaston and avoiding the kiss that was attempted against his cheek.

“I’m not--”

With a scoff, Gaston’s lips were against his neck, now, and there was nothing LeFou could do to stop himself from closing his eyes and melting into it as Gaston sneered against his skin and spoke,

“You’re right: ‘whore’ implies you get compensation for your efforts. You give it to me for free.”

LeFou was put off, slightly offended, but found an odd pleasure in Gaston’s harsh words, cheeks heating in spite of them. He bit his lower lip and grinned to himself, tilting his head to allow Gaston better exposure to the soft, heated flesh of his neck.

“Perhaps ‘slut’ would be better,” Gaston rumbled lowly.

With his mouth pressed hotly to LeFou’s neck, teeth scraping bluntly across sensitive nerves, tongue tracing his curves, Gaston had managed to spin LeFou around; had begun to walk him up against the nearest table. His hands felt up his partner's body, finding his way underneath LeFou's vest, and grappling at the fabric of his top, to pull it free from his waistband. His length pressed firmly to the small of LeFou’s back, and they groaned in unison as Gaston rutted shallowly against him, pushing LeFou down to the table even more.

Dishes and mugs clattered against the tabletop as LeFou spilled onto it, and effectively shook him from his stupor.

“Oh!” he gasped, “Th-there’s still dinnerware everywhere! W-we should clean!”

He rolled out from under Gaston’s bulking form, face bright pink and hot, erection pressed uncomfortably against the fly of his breeches. He inwardly cursed, wanting desperately to give into Gaston but feeling the niggling responsibility of bar ownership and his instincts for self-preservation screaming at him to stop.

He loaded several steins and utensils onto a platter and made his way behind the bar to organize them for washing.

“Must have been a busy night,” LeFou called over to Gaston, who had taken a seat on the very table that LeFou had just cleared.

The man scowled, brushing his hands through his long dark locks and pinning his hair back into a ribbon as he spoke. “Yes, quite a late one. You don’t remember?”

“I went upstairs when the triplets swarmed you," LeFou rolled his eyes. He faced away from Gaston and busied himself with filling the kettle. “They don’t interest me like they do you. All I remember is waking up at some ungodly hour, with you falling on top of me.”

Gaston grinned, flashing sharp teeth as he watched his partner make his way to the fireplace to hook the kettle above it.

“I can give you a better memory than that, if you’ll let me,” Gaston purred.

He stood and followed LeFou back behind the bar, pressing their bodies together once more; Gaston's neediness even more obvious now. He kneaded insistently at LeFou’s upper arms and massaged downwards, reaching forward up to LeFou’s neck and grazing his fingers lightly across his adam’s apple.

“Gaston…” LeFou moaned wearily. “It’s 9:32. Please, just...I mean, you _know_ I want to, right? Just wait.”

Gaston chuckled darkly to himself, and it sent a chill down LeFou’s spine to hear it.

“All I can hear is a slut trying not to sound like one,” Gaston smiled, eyes heavy with lust, breathing in sharp huffs behind LeFou, snaking his fingers along LeFou’s jawline and bringing them up to dance along his lips. “Perhaps it’s best if you say nothing.”

His middle and ring fingers dipped into LeFou’s mouth, his lips parting reflexively to let the man inside. He ran his tongue along them as Gaston withdrew and inserted them lewdly, pushing in until he was two knuckles deep and LeFou was humming around them.

LeFou’s wrists were wrangled behind his back and held in place with Gaston’s strong, free hand, as the other withdrew from the wet heat of LeFou’s mouth and found its way to Gaston’s bottoms. He wrestled his slacks and knickers down past his hips, and they fell to his ankles easily of their own accord. LeFou’s breeches were slightly more of a task; Gaston’s hand fishing around to the other’s fly, trapped against the bar, finally finding the button and drawstring of his pants and slipping them and LeFou’s knickers down past his buttocks with a violent tug.

And all the while, LeFou stood conflicted, shaking weakly against Gaston’s hold, which tightened as he positioned himself so that he was bent further over the bar’s countertop, more comfortably; avoiding faucets and dirty mugs and plates and the puddle of water he’d spilled filling the kettle.

And then Gaston’s hand was dipping back into his mouth, faster, more roughly than before.

“Get it nice and wet for me,” he breathed raggedly into LeFou's hair.

LeFou obeyed for the sake of speed and efficiency, and when Gaston was satisfied, he brought his hand down to the crack of LeFou’s ass and forced his way inside. The man on the bar hissed in protest, tightening his muscles involuntarily, and protesting even more loudly because of it.

“Still not used to this, hm?” Gaston whispered through clenched teeth, gripping LeFou’s wrists tighter as he leaned his weight into him. He curled his fingers, rubbing blind circles inside of LeFou until the man beneath him sputtered out in blissful shock.

“ _Oh God!!_ ”

“There?” Gaston snickered, and LeFou bucked, rocked his hips against Gaston's own; nodded vigorously in affirmation.

He made LeFou cry out beautifully yet again with another rotation of his fingers, and jeered at him, “See, LeFou, I know how you make you whine like a slut, even if you don't want to believe it.” It was like music to his ears.

"Gaston," LeFou moaned unashamedly, "Ga-- just hurry up...People will be here soon."

LeFou's face was beet red just imagining it; if they were caught. Here now, or ever...there would really be no way to explain away what anyone had seen. They'd be hanged! Gaston was acting reckless as usual. Insane--! And yet, the fear and the adrenaline combined was undeniably sexy.

And there was no denying, too, that LeFou was desperately hard; positively aching for it.

Finally Gaston withdrew his fingers and spat into his hand, slicking his cock with saliva. He spared no time in plunging his cock past that wonderfully intense ring of muscle; into the very depths of his partner, who tensed and flexed his fingers within Gaston’s grip, but cried out in pleasure just the same.

"We'll leave the door locked and open late," Gaston said simply; a belated reply to LeFou’s prior worry.

Instantly the blood froze in LeFou’s veins as he remembered.

"The door isn't locked," he said, wide-eyed and horrified.

Gaston rocked his hips against him, painfully slowly, grinding in small circles and burying himself deeper. He was silent, almost as though he was contemplating what to do next. But he didn't remove himself, nor did he release the man underneath him.

“Le-let me up!” LeFou gasped out, struggling to see behind him, “Let me-- I’ll go and lock the door!”

He turned and stared when he got no reply, flopping back onto his stomach, eyes set straight ahead to the door. The ticking of the ornate antlered wall clock caught his attention as well; it told him that it was 9:41, and that in less than twenty minutes the cook and several of the barmaids would be in to tidy and prep the tavern for its 10:30 am opening.

Gaston’s hips snapped back, as he very nearly pulled his cock from LeFou completely. Then teasingly, he pushed back in.

“It wouldn’t matter,” he said flatly, “Anatole has a key for the main door, and Clothilde’s got one for the kitchen cellar.”

He continued his leisurely pace, thrusting shallowly into and out of his partner, LeFou’s heart jackhammering against his rib cage in fear and frustrated arousal.

“ _Please!_ ” He pleaded, cheek flush against the countertop now. “Please! Gaston-- either hurry up or stop! Are you crazy!?”

“The danger is attractive though, isn’t it!?” Gaston bellowed, laughter echoing through the tavern. “Imagine if anyone walked in, why, I’d have to tell them you’d bewitched me, wouldn’t I? God, and you feel so amazing when you're worried like this...”

He reared back his head and exhaled through his teeth.

Tears welled in LeFou’s eyes and stayed unfallen. The pain of hasty, unlubricated sex and the heartache of a would-be betrayal that he wanted to deny so badly; the fear he felt as he watched the clock count down the seconds; the burning, wonderful, _insane_ arousal he felt because, god, he _did_ love Gaston - so, _so_ much - and Gaston was buried to the hilt inside of him. It was all too much.

“Just _move!_ ” he snapped. " _Fuck me!_ "

He wanted to forget everything. Give in, get off and get this over with.

“Are you begging?” Gaston cooed, sickly satisfied with how their morning was going; getting off on the rush of danger and his lover's reluctant obedience. He practically howled. “Tell me again what you want!”

LeFou screwed his eyes shut tight. 9:47.

“Gaston, please! _Please_ fuck me--! Hurry!” he hissed.

And with that, he thrust faster, pinning LeFou's body against the bar roughly with his weight, fucking into him hard and absorbing the sweet moans and gasps and grunts beneath him. LeFou did his best to keep up with the pace, bucking feebly to Gaston's rhythm, but there wasn't enough room for him to move. If he was honest, it was almost preferable that way; being perfectly used without having to exert more effort than he already had in indulging his boorish captain.

“I want to hear you say something for me,” Gaston huffed, grin evident in his voice. He released LeFou's wrists suddenly and instead grabbed tightly to his hips as his cock filled LeFou as deeply as it could, eliciting a sharp cry followed by a soft moan. A quiet sob.

“Do you like being fucked from behind, like the slut you are?"

LeFou's brain was numb. He knew what he was expected to say. There was nobody else even in the tavern, and yet, vocalizing the depraved admission that yes, he was in fact enjoying this...it was so hard. He bit his lip and at first refused to speak. But when no response came, Gaston's hips stilled, and the lack of friction was brutally painful.

"Tick tock."

The two words dripped from Gaston's lips as though they were venom; spoken closely to LeFou's ear, with stale morning breath pouring over him. The tea kettle had begun to whistle, and Gaston was tapping his finger on the counter in time with the clock's pendulum.

Maybe he was going crazy, but he would _not_ be caught.

"Yes!" LeFou groaned, bucking back against Gaston. "Okay? God, yes! I love it--! I'm..."

Gaston continued the whipcrack pace he'd set previously, but hummed questioningly for LeFou to continue; tangling a hand in LeFou's hair and pulling, snapping the man's head to the side so they were face to face. They caught each other in a fierce kiss, with tongues lapping greedily against one another and teeth clacking. The sweat from Gaston's brow blended with LeFou's; they were messy and impetuous and it felt amazing.

"Say it," Gaston sneered. He had managed to keep his composure for the majority of their tryst, but the raw lust and need for orgasm was apparent in his glazed eyes, and LeFou thought perhaps he'd caught Gaston looking at the wall clock once or twice himself.

He needed to make it good and fast.

"Touch me!" LeFou moaned, loud - too loud - and Gaston complied, gripping LeFou's cock tightly and pumping him in time with the ragged thrusts of his hips. LeFou moaned more, stifling the sounds only slightly with his forehead to the coolness of the bar, gasping for breath, gasping for more, gasping for it to be harder and faster. His hands clawed at the bar's countertop, knocking mugs to the floor with a tinny crash and narrowly avoiding getting the elbow of his blouse in a butter dish that had been presumably misplaced from the kitchen.

9:53.

He was going to die.

"Say it!" Gaston growled against LeFou's back, hips slamming against LeFou's ass even harder than before. "You _know_ you want to!"

"A slut!" LeFou broke, choking on his words and trying desperately to form more. "Ah! G-God! I love when you fuck me like this...I'm-- God, I'm such a slut! _Your_ slut! I'm--!"

He tensed up, and Gaston thankfully did then, too, grunting in reply.

"I'm going to--!"

The relief that washed over him as he came was glorious; he was hard pressed to think of a time in the past that he'd felt a release quite as intense. Feeling Gaston slack and collapse against him onto the bar as his own climax came and expired, his cock softening and slipping from LeFou, and LeFou's pressed against the bar cabinet, regrettably streaking it with his mess...He heaved a sigh, and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

But the elation was short-lived. Gaston had been smart enough to leave him and begin pulling up his slacks and knickers, and to tuck in his shirt and make himself halfway presentable. It wasn't as easy for LeFou, whose hair had been tugged on, and clothes rumpled under the weight of another; whose ass was full of cum that was slowly trickling down his leg. 

9:57 - nay, 58.

He heard the shuffle behind the main door, the sound of a key inserted into a keyhole out of ignorance for the door having already been unlocked earlier by LeFou himself.  
  
Gaston was already far from his side, sitting by the fireplace, poking the embers idly and removing the kettle from its place above the fire.

"Bonjour, Captain!" The gruff voice of the tavern's bartender called from the entrance, followed closely by several daintier, high-pitched greetings from the barmaids. LeFou fell to the floor as the door opened, skittering away on all fours into the kitchen so that he could fasten his breeches and hopefully at the very least, flatten his hair.

"Bonjour Anatole, ladies," beamed Gaston.

The women poured into the tavern and surrounded the ex-captain, chattering away about this and that - pleasantries that LeFou couldn't be bothered to pay attention to in the moment as he pulled up his pants, grimacing as the fabric pressed against the cool dampness of his legs. He stood, tucked the hem of his blouse into his breeches and decided that he looked presentable enough to possibly dart upstairs to Gaston's quarters and freshen up. He strolled out of the kitchen with shaky confidence, hands running through the length of his hair; bumping into Anatole as he moved - the man bidding him a good morning as he walked past.

LeFou took his place standing next to Gaston by the fire, observing the staff. Anatole swore from the kitchen about last night's mess; the maids went from table to table picking up what dishes LeFou hadn't. Clothilde entered the barroom from the kitchen, soured expression glued to her face; evidently not a morning person, either.

"You boys having trouble with breakfast, or what?" she droned. "I don't know how you managed it, but it looks worse back here than it did last night."

She stopped dead in front of the bar cabinet, regarding the deviant white mess that LeFou hadn't had time to clean. He stared at her with horror, pale-faced, eyes of a dead fish as she took a cloth and wiped it up.

"There's butter on the cabinets for God's sake?"

LeFou's heart thudded in his chest with such ferocity, he was afraid that someone would hear. But rather than question either of the men anymore about it, Clothilde simply ran the cloth over the bartop, picked up the rogue butter dish and a mug from the counter and carried them back into the kitchen. LeFou opened and shut his mouth, sputtering in her absence, struggling for words until he was able to chirp a nervous, "I'm going upstairs."

Gaston, too, seemed reasonably gobsmacked, and nodded.

He stood and followed LeFou to the stairs, standing and leaning against the railing as his partner took his first few steps up, reaching out to tug at the sleeve of the other's top before he got too far. LeFou looked down, and as mortified as he currently was, he found his worries fading away to the ticking of the wall clock, simply by looking into Gaston's assuring, hazel eyes.

"I hope you haven't lost your nerve," Gaston grinned. "We'll practice our timing tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> Chat with me on Twitter: riachinko or Tumblr: rudigerblues/riankoworks ⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )


End file.
